


Why the Hell Do You Think I Drew Attention to My Sword?

by MaiKusakabe



Series: Sticks and Circles [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, Cultural Differences, Established Relationship, F/M, Politics, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-29 11:26:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13926180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaiKusakabe/pseuds/MaiKusakabe
Summary: Roy Mustang and Olivier Armstrong arrive at the Wizarding World and negotiations begin. Not everything is as it seems on the surface. It's a pity they are the only ones to realize as much.Meanwhile, in Amestris, they continue with their efforts to learn as much as possible from this other world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi :D
> 
> It’s been longer than I expected, but here I am with the first chapter of the next part of this story. Updates will be on the slow side because I’m trying to balance all my projects, but I hope you like how the story continues.
> 
> We pick up right where we’d left it.

Despite the weeks that had passed, Lucius Malfoy still had some difficulty believing his good luck on occasion. Cornelius Fudge’s stupidity had worked wonders in returning Lucius to the Dark Lord’s good graces despite that fiasco with the diary a few years ago. And now here he was, waiting along with a select group of people for the arrival of two wizards from another world.

Truly, the only downside to the current situation was Kingsley Shacklebolt’s presence, which meant Dumbledore most certainly knew of this other world by now.

Dolores Umbridge’s office, as per Lucius’ advice, had been magically enlarged to fit their party, an ample seating area by a warm and welcoming fireplace and a long buffet table offering an exquisite selection of their society’s finest cuisine, along with a wide, cleared space where their guests could arrive comfortably.

It was in this space where a crackling net of blue light appeared, quickly taking the shape of a perfect circle. Lucius had witnessed this event once before, when he had been present at the Ministry for the arrival of one of the letters. This time, instead of an official letter in a small circle of blue light that would’ve fit on top of a desk, the light had formed a much larger circle and two figures materialised in the middle of it.

As the light vanished, Lucius could take in the two people’s features.

They did not look anything like what Lucius had been expecting of them.

From the information provided in the letters, Lucius had deduced that it took a very long time and great achievements for anyone to reach any of the ranks of general in the Amestris military. There were, after all, many other ranks below them. Thus, Lucius had accounted for two old wizards or witches, similar to the kind of people one expected to find seated at the Wizengamot.

Roy Mustang and Olivier Armstrong did not look anything like that.

Lucius didn’t know which of them was who, but both of them appeared to be younger than he was; the woman by a couple of years, the man by around a decade.

Both of them were dressed in blue clothes, long coats over loose trousers, black boots, and an assortment of medals on the left breast of their coats. Lucius guessed these were their military uniforms. They didn’t have anything in common with the auror robes worn by the people standing guard at the back of the room.

Even before the blue light had completely faded, Fudge took a step forward.

“Welcome, welcome!” he greeted enthusiastically, taking off his hat and making an exaggerated bow with such overdone reverence that it sent a wave of second-hand embarrassment crawling down Lucius’ spine. That behaviour was utterly unacceptable for the leader of the wizarding world. Fudge lacked the propriety, poise and dignity expected of someone in his position. Lucius comforted himself with the reminder that soon enough their world would be in the hands of people truly worthy of leading it.

“My name is Cornelius Fudge, and I am the Minister for Magic. It is a veritable honour to welcome you to the British Wizarding World,” Fudge continued, his back straight now. Then he turned to his right, where Amelia Bones stood. “This is Madame Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Rufus Scrimgeour, head of the Auror Office and the man in charge of the security for the duration of our meetings; and Mr. Lucius Malfoy, who has graciously agreed to oversee the more social aspects of our negotiations.”

Lucius inclined his head in greeting, careful to keep his gesture polite but not obsequious. He needed to establish his high standing position from the beginning.

The woman nodded, curt but polite.

“I am Lieutenant General Olivier Armstrong, and this is Brigadier General Roy Mustang, of the Amestris State Military,” she introduced formally.

Standing a step behind her and to Armstrong’s right, Mustang nodded his head in a similar manner to Lucius’ own gesture.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Fudge enthused, back to his overly cheerful demeanour. “Please, come forward; we have prepared a small meal to welcome you after your trip.”

 

* * *

 

 

They didn’t accomplish much on the first day. Olivier had expected it, fully aware that hoping for anything past the mandatory pleasantries would only be wishful thinking on her part, but that didn’t mean Olivier liked having to play social games.

Cornelius Fudge was as unimpressive as Olivier had expected him to be, but the other members of the reception party had proven to be somewhat more interesting. From what little Fudge had allowed her to speak without interrupting with some inane comment, Amelia Bones seemed to be far smarter and a more no-nonsense person than what many generals Olivier had met over the years could hope to accomplish. Rufus Scrimgeour had been tense and mostly silent throughout the meal, and if Olivier had to make a guess about him right now she’d say that he wasn’t all that thrilled about the whole affair. As for Lucius Malfoy, he’d been nothing short of perfectly polite. Olivier had to wonder what sort of influence he had to have wormed his way into a top secret situation like this one.

After the meal, Fudge and Malfoy —alongside four of the aurors who had been standing guard the entire time— had escorted Roy and Olivier to what Malfoy had described as one of the finest establishments in the entire wizarding world: a very posh hotel with gold practically everywhere and the sort of furniture that Olivier was used to seeing in the houses of those who liked to boast their wealth. Fudge had informed them that the Ministry of Magic had booked the entire top floor of the hotel, and would keep it so for as long as was necessary. He had also said that a couple of aurors would be stationed in a room down the hallway at all times for their safety —Olivier had nearly snorted.

“Two bedrooms,” Roy said in amusement, snapping Olivier out of her thoughts before she could start pointing out all the flaws in such lame security. Two guards, and no traces of technology or magic to monitor them. Olivier had checked: there was absolutely no technology in the suite —according to everything they had read magic fried it anyway— and all the detection spells had come back clean. Olivier would never allow strangers into her fortress with such pitiful security measures, much less an unknown entity into Amestris’ territory.

“Obviously. We’re not going to advertise our relationship,” Olivier said, moving to sit on a couch in the common area.

“Such a pity,” Roy said with an exaggerated sigh. “Did you notice the way Fudge was looking at you?” he asked, settling next to her.

Olivier felt her eyes twitch. Yes, she had. Fudge had been trying to _charm_ her the entire time.

“Why the hell do you think I drew attention to my sword?”

Roy, being his annoying self, laughed. At least he had the sense to suggest that they started on their first report to Grumman before Olivier decided to reach for said sword.

 

* * *

 

 

“I haven’t been able to gather any information on their culture or beliefs,” Kingsley continued later that night, once the facts had been covered, during the meeting of the Order of the Phoenix that had been called expressly to discuss this first encounter. “As for my thoughts on our visitors, I would say they are clearly high class purebloods. Olivier Armstrong carries with her a magical sword as a symbol of her status. Even Malfoy was impressed by her.” Malfoy’s reaction had surprised Kingsley; he had expected Malfoy to attempt to ingratiate himself to their visitors —and he, of course, had— but having such an elitist and dangerous Death Eater appear to be genuinely _pleased_ by the first impression he had of said visitors was nothing short of worrying.

Sirius scoffed.

“Of course he was,” he said derisively. “He’s finally found someone else who carries around a useless and old-fashioned symbol of his supposed superiority.”

“Sirius!” Molly admonished him. “We don’t know if Miss Armstrong is anything like the Death Eaters.”

“Don’t we?” Sirius asked, sarcasm clear in his voice. “What did you say, Kingsley? Cool, aloof and carrying a power stick sounds pretty Death Eater-ish to me. Merlin, you even said this Mustang kid can do the political rubbish with the best of them!”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean they share the Death Eaters’ beliefs,” Dumbledore said before Molly could reply. “Kingsley, I have brought my pensieve with me. Would you mind showing us what they look like? I have a theory I’d like to confirm.”

 

* * *

 

 

Winry leant back in her chair and stretched her arms over her head in an attempt to loosen some of the knots that had formed in her back. After the umpteenth argument with Ed over his penchant for getting lost in his research and forgetting basic things such as food or sleep until someone dragged him away from it, they had settled on an agreement. Now Winry had a table in his lab to work on her designs and make sure Ed left the lab at a reasonable time every day. Besides, simply because she couldn’t work on the mechanical side of automail, it didn’t mean she couldn’t do anything at all.

In truth, Winry spent more time working alongside Ed and his team than designing. As it turned out, her expertise made Winry a better choice to work on this project than some of the scientists Ed had been assigned.

A plate of sandwiches appeared between her face and the notebook she was sketching on, and Winry looked up to find Ed standing next to her.

“Lunch time,” Ed said, placing the plate next to the mess that were Winry’s writing tools.

An unexpected side effect of Winry’s presence in the lab was that, while Ed didn’t particularly care about his own body’s needs, he never forgot _Winry’s_. Ed hadn’t let a single meal pass since Winry’s arrival to the lab. He had even dragged Al here to transmute one of the unused offices into a bedroom for when Winry needed to rest.

Winry smiled in thanks, and Ed turned to drag a chair over —pretending he hadn’t done anything, as he always did. Winry noticed the folder he was carrying.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Mustang sent it over with their first report,” Ed replied. He dropped the folder next to the plate and plopped down on the chair. “I bet it’s full of the complaints he couldn’t put in the official report; he can’t have had the time to learn anything useful, it’s not even been a full day.”

Winry bit back a snicker. Despite Ed’s nonchalant tone, she could tell he wanted to read Brigadier General Mustang’s unofficial report of his and Lieutenant General Armstrong’s first impression of the wizards. Truth be told, so did Winry, and she couldn’t be the only one.

“Al and the others?” she asked. It would be unfair to leave them out of this.

“Out for lunch,” Ed said, and grinned. “He’s with _Mei_.”

Winry shook her head at Ed’s petty attitude. She found Al and Mei’s budding romance really sweet.

“I left them messages to come up here when they’re back,” Ed added.

“Okay. Let’s eat then,” Winry said, and reached out for a sandwich.

 

* * *

 

 

The first official meeting took place in the same office where Roy and Olivier had arrived, though the room had been considerably modified since the previous day.

As Roy took his seat across from Madame Bones he made a mental note to suggest further research into magically-modified spaces in his next report. His own investigation of it had been superficial at best. Roy’s mind went on a quick tangent on all the ways life could be made easier for the troops if they could have such things as actual working bathrooms inside their standard tents without adding weight or volume to them before returning to the here and now.

Roy had no delusions about this meeting, he knew they would do little more than exchange the more developed dossiers on each world that had been composed over the last few weeks. Roy didn’t like to remember how much effort _that_ had cost them, or how many times Sheska had been forced to rewrite the text. Neither Scrimgeour nor Malfoy were present, but Fudge was positively _vibrating_ with excitement, so Roy steeled himself for an excessively long meeting.

By the end of the meeting he had been proven right: they had exchanged dossiers and agreed on a period of two weeks to go through them before the next official meeting took place (Roy could almost hear Olivier internally snorting and wondering why they hadn’t done this through letters). The only half-surprise was Fudge’s offer of having a team of aurors show them around parts of the wizarding world in the meantime, which Olivier accepted.

 

* * *

 

 

As they walked down the street, Roy thought it was a good thing that he and Olivier had already been to Diagon Alley before today. Otherwise, acting as though they weren’t fazed by certain things would have proven tricky at best. Ignoring the abysmal fashion sense and most of the store fronts they passed was easy enough, but their group had just nearly been run over by a troop of small children who had been racing on tiny, hovering _broomsticks_ of all things.

One of the aurors dressed in civilian robes was lecturing the children on broomstick safety right now.

“I think we’ll be adding those to our list of interests,” Roy said, infusing his voice with amusement. He would have loved a flying broomstick as a child (hell, he might now as well, as long as he could ascertain its safety first).

“You don’t have flying broomsticks back home?” asked Kingsley Shacklebolt, one of the aurors showing Roy and Olivier around Diagon Alley.

“Fortunately for our pedestrians, we don’t,” Roy replied lightly.

Shacklebolt laughed.

“Children can be a menace on those toys, but real broomsticks are very useful.”

“How so?” Olivier asked, glancing at him and freeing the poor children from her murderous glower.

Shacklebolt gladly started to talk about real flying broomsticks and their many advantages. He was clearly a fan.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m curious,” Roy said, looking around at the still too bizarre Diagon Alley, “how have you managed to keep muggles so utterly unaware of the existence of magic?”

Given the lack of any such division in their own world, they hadn’t bothered to look into the subject as part of their preparation for these meetings. Edward had snorted and said that it would be like attempting to hide alchemy from non-alchemists when Roy had mentioned the division. Looking around, at the lack of discretion and muggle-like clothes from the people milling about, Roy had to wonder how no muggles had seemingly put the pieces together yet.

“Wait, it’s _true_?” one of the aurors, Dawlish, asked with obvious surprise.

Olivier glanced sideways at him, but it was Roy who replied.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Dawlish looked around before speaking, his voice considerably lower this time.

“Do you really live alongside muggles in your world? Peacefully?” Roy nodded. “ _How_?”

Roy shrugged.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that question. I’d need to know what this world’s history with muggles is like first.”

Olivier snorted. It was her fake but very believable snort.

“Subtle, Mustang,” she muttered, loud enough to be heard by everyone present.

“What do you mean, ma’am?” Dawlish asked.

Roy bit back a snort. The aurors felt enough at ease around Roy to be casual with him, but they had immediately figured out that the best way to interact with Olivier was to be formal and very respectful. To be fair, the only one who hadn’t figured that out was Fudge —or, if he had, he was under the delusion that his position spared him the need to be formal to Olivier.

“Mustang’s been dying to get his hands on some books since he was brought into this project,” Olivier explained, scorn dripping from her voice.

“There’s nothing wrong about liking to read, Lieutenant General Armstrong,” Roy said easily, and added a charming smile for good measure.

Olivier rolled her eyes.

“What the hell are you doing in the military?” This question was a common element in their public banter.

“There is a good bookshop nearby,” Shacklebolt interjected in a pacifying tone before Roy could fire a response. He looked at Olivier. “Perhaps we could find something to your liking, Lieutenant General,” he offered.

Olivier fixed a steady glare on Shacklebolt, and Roy was impressed when he didn’t back off. Eventually, Olivier nodded.

“You’d better show me something good, Shacklebolt,” she warned him.

And, just like that, they had wormed their way into an excursion to a bookshop and opened the possibility for future trips.

At first, Roy worried that the clerk at Flourish and Blotts might recognise them despite their uniforms, but the person sitting behind the counter was an unknown young woman, not the man Roy had spoken to last time.

When Shacklebolt asked Olivier to follow him, she turned to glare at Dawlish.

“Make sure he,” she jabbed a thumb at Roy, “doesn’t get lost.”

Dawlish nodded, his eyes wide open. It was due to experience and his amazing acting skills that Roy managed to maintain a mildly amused face instead of bursting out laughing.

 

* * *

 

 

Kingsley wasn’t sure whether he was more interested by today’s trip or bored to tears by it. Arthur had asked him to take notes and tell him everything later, of course, but the only real interest Kingsley had in muggle culture was to know how a wizarding society had managed to adapt anything created by muggles so it would be useful to them in some way.

Brigadier General Mustang, however, looked about as interested as Arthur had been when Kingsley had told the Order that the aurors would escort their visitors on a tour around the muggle world today. When the suggestion had come up, Fudge had barely managed to suppress his derision at the idea, but he was doing his best to get on Mustang and Armstrong’s good side, so he had agreed to it as graciously as he could.

Lieutenant General Armstrong looked barely interested, as though she was vaguely curious but didn’t expect much out of the trip.

Organising this trip hadn’t been easy, given that no muggleborns were officially authorised to know about the other world, but Kingsley and Robards had eventually managed to set up what they hoped was an acceptable routine. Starting with a tour around London’s landmarks which would also provide a chance to look around at the local muggles, followed by a meal at a muggle restaurant Robards had heard of from a cousin to sample muggle cuisine and a trip to a large bookshop. Kingsley had suggested this one after learning of Mustang’s interest in books, though he wasn’t sure how he would convince Armstrong it was worth it yet. And convincing Armstrong _was_ up to Kingsley, because the other aurors had unanimously decided the fact that Armstrong didn’t constantly glare at him meant she kind of liked him.

Privately, Kingsley wondered if Armstrong even _liked_ anyone. None of the information he had guessed about her so far suggested as much.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess which story isn’t abandoned :) I’ve had some serious writer’s block going on with this fic, but I finally managed to push past the problem. I guess you’ll notice where the issue was, but I’m seriously done fighting it.
> 
> Before we move on to the chapter itself, I’d like to clear a couple of things that have come up in a lot of comments about the previous chapter and its AN:
> 
> -The wizards didn’t say Olivier’s sword is magical because it IS, they’ve assumed as much because the idea of a family (and especially one that they have assumed to be purebloods) having a heirloom that isn’t magical is so ridiculous to wizards it doesn’t bear consideration. Besides, why would Olivier need a sword when there is magic, right? As we see in the books, wizards rely on their wands far too much during fights. So obviously, she only carries it around as a magical symbol.
> 
> -There have been mixed responses to my comment on showing how the relationship came to be, so I’d like to explain it a bit further. If I write it, it’ll be as a separate story. This story is all plotted out, and I have no intentions of changing it past the common tweaks that come up when writing a story. I like to have everything straight in my head before I start posting a story, which in this case means two things: one is that I know pretty much every detail of what will happen in this story (aforementioned block notwithstanding), and two is that I’d already decided and plotted out how Olivier and Roy became a couple in this universe before I started even writing the previous part. Is this that I’d like to make into a different fanfic.

Basil Johnson stared in numb horror at the utterly unscientific events that had taken over the middle of the laboratory’s entrance hall.

A package of books from that other world had arrived earlier this morning, and Edward Elric — _the_ Edward Elric— had decided that the best way to sort them out was to camp in the entrance hall and throw them around between the heads of the different teams. It was positively barbaric.

“Oi, Mei! Wandlore bullshit, this one’s for you!” Edward Elric yelled, and tossed a thick volume at Mei Chan, who caught it in the air without even looking up from the books she was sorting.

Basil grimaced.

He had been extremely disappointed, at first, to learn that he wasn’t part of Edward Elric’s team. He had believed that working under the barely known Alphonse Elric was a poor substitute. Now, however, Basil was _very_ grateful for his luck. Not only was Alphonse brilliant, but he was also polite and considerate. Nothing like what those who worked for Edward had to say about him. In fact, as Basil had come to learn over the past few weeks, Alphonse was most likely the best person to work for out of all the team heads. Mei Chan wasn’t a bad second option, but according to her subordinates she sometimes forgot the fact that none of them were alkahestrists and they could spend days without understanding a single word of what she said. As for Izumi Curtis… well, she made Edward seem like a sweet and cuddly teddy bear.

The only good thing to come out of this, Basil mused as he watched as the exchange of books continued, was the suggestion that perhaps some smaller groups might be in order to work on certain concepts and ideas from the books Brigadier General Mustang had sent. A glance around the room proved to Basil that many people intended to try to be transferred to one of these groups.

 

* * *

 

 

“What could these people want?” Olivier asked, her feet propped up on the coffee table in the suite’s sitting room. She was tapping a pen on a notebook she had propped on her knee. Her attempt to compile a potential list of topics to cover in the upcoming meeting hadn’t been very fruitful so far.

“I’m not certain,” Roy replied from the carpet, where he was browsing the dossier the wizards had given them. “From what we’ve seen, wizards seem to be quite complacent. And this,” Roy waved the dossier in the air, “mainly reflects that.”

“Parlour tricks,” Olivier agreed. That dossier was mostly a thick essay boasting about how easy life was for wizards in this world compared to muggles, though Olivier had her reservations on the topic. Wizards depended on far too many spells that required them to waste their own energy (not to mention the use of a wand), things that on Amestris —and the muggle world, from what she’d observed so far— were taken care of by machines. “What did Elric say about creating a team to work on making electricity and magic compatible?”

“That he’d look for some half-competent minion to take care of it,” Roy replied with an amused smirk. “Mei Chan has made some progress in creating wands —it turns out that certain gemstones can replace the weird animal cores— so Edward thinks they’ll be able to start on that project soon.”

“Gemstones?” Olivier asked, grimacing. She could already imagine fancy sticks with jewels on one end.

“ _Very small_ gemstones. Nothing garish, I’ve been assured. Then again, Edward’s definition of garish…” Roy trailed off, and Olivier snorted.

Yes, she knew how reliable _that_ was.

“Ask Izumi. She’s far more reliable when it comes to practical things,” she said.

“And as for what we can offer…” Roy began in a pensive voice. He turned around and stretched very enticingly on the carpet. “What about automail? I noticed a woman with a wooden leg of all things on Diagon Alley the other day. Automail uses no electricity, so magic wouldn’t mess with it. And it should fit the complacent lifestyles these people like so much.”

“It could work,” Olivier agreed, scribbling it down. “What about magic? Do you think it could have some added to it?”

“Probably? I’d be surprised if Mrs. Elric hasn’t already come up with some ideas. Protective spells, at the very least, could be very useful.”

“You’re thinking of the desert,” Olivier guessed, while her own mind went to Briggs and the trouble even winter automail could cause.

They’d have Chan’s team test if magic could be applied to automail as soon as she had a working wand.

 

* * *

 

 

Severus Snape wasn’t sure whether he was more nervous or exasperated right now. This whole affair about the other world had doubled his workload, and he was growing tired of running from Dumbledore to the Dark Lord and back again to report.

Dumbledore was convinced that this other world was unlikely to support the Dark Lord’s cause, all due to a single chance meeting with Armstrong and Mustang over the summer during the fiasco with Potter and the dementors. Meanwhile, the Dark Lord, unaware as he was of said meeting, had based his own opinion that this other world would support him on Lucius’ reports and what information Dumbledore told Severus to pass along from Shecklebolt’s own reports to the Order.

Those among the Death Eaters who knew of this other world were convinced that the cohabitation there between wizards and muggles meant that the wizards of the world had taken their ‘rightful place’ above the muggles, and were eager to know more about it.

Truth be told, not much of this cohabitation between muggles and wizards was known. According to both Lucius and Shacklebolt, Fudge had shown no particular interest in this issue, and instead focused on how he could benefit on a personal level from a relationship with a new magical world. The information he’d shared with Armstrong and Mustang was meant to highlight the wonders of the wizarding world. Fudge was hoping to obtain something that would make the public love him, and even something that’d help him get rid of Dumbledore.

What little of how muggles and wizards interacted in this other world they knew had come from Shacklebolt’s reports of his role as auror tourist guide for Armstrong and Mustang, information that Severus hadn’t given the Dark Lord. Shacklebolt was of the opinion that at least Mustang had no issues with muggles, based on his interest in the muggle world and the massive amount of books he’d acquired at the bookshop they had visited.

However, Severus wasn’t a cynical bastard for no reason, and he wasn’t as optimistic as Dumbledore or Shacklebolt were about the situation. Mustang’s interest in muggles didn’t necessarily mean acceptance of them; it could simply be that he knew the advantages of looking for useful tools anywhere he could find them. Armstrong’s knowledge on how to use a gun could simply mean that she’d chosen to learn how to use more weapons in case her wand was taken away, as had been the case during the encounter with the dementors.

But, whatever the truth was, the fact remained that all three sides in this conflict (even if the Ministry remained stubborn and willingly oblivious to the existence of said conflict) were convinced that this new world would support them and were planning accordingly.

Right now, Severus stood at attention in a Death Eater meeting, listening to the Dark Lord going on about the best way of explaining his cause to those he already called their “new allies”.

 

* * *

 

 

Ed had never been particularly fond of national holidays. As a child, they had meant boring activities at school that felt even more useless than the average classes had. As a teenager, national holidays were all about military parades and actually having to put on the damned uniform. Ed had only been able to stand national holidays for the last three years, when he’d been able to ignore them altogether.

This year, however, national holidays had gone back to being a pain in the ass.

“Days off? _From research_?” Ed complained for what might well be the thousandth time. “I bet this was Mustang’s idea, the lazy bastard.”

Winry patted his shoulder.

“You won’t die from taking things easy now and then, you know,” she told him.

“Wanna bet?” Ed grumbled. He didn’t _do_ time off, he needed to have something to occupy his mind.

“You’re impossible,” Winry said with a long-suffering sigh. “We can take this chance to talk about the future.”

Ed blinked up at the sky, then dragged himself to a sitting position.

“The future?” he asked, making his confusion clear. He didn’t know what about the future needed to be discussed: they had already chosen the baby’s name, whether they had a boy or a girl, and between Gracia Hughes and Teacher they had all the baby stuff they might need for a month at least. Or a year. Ed was of the opinion that they had gone a little overboard with the shopping.

“Of course,” Winry said, in that voice that told Ed he was missing something obvious. “We’re clearly going to spend a lot of time here at Central with this project —you won’t leave it, and neither will I— and we can’t impose on the Armstrongs forever.”

Ed opened his mouth to ask ‘why not’ (the Armstrongs had more than enough space and money to house an army if they wanted to, as had been proven three years ago) but he stopped himself. Living with the Armstrongs indefinitely? With _Mustang_? Ed had no delusions, it was only a matter of time before Grumman dragged Mustang back to Central. Olivier Armstrong too, now that he thought about it.

Ed shuddered.

_No fucking way._

“What’s your plan?”

Winry grinned, pleased.

“I’ve been talking to Mrs. Armstrong. She insists that we stay here until after the baby is born, but after that I think we should start looking for a house. So let’s decide what we want it to be like.”

“Have you told Al?” Ed asked, because Al had always stayed with them whenever he came back from Xing, and Ed expected he (and probably Mei) would be spending quite some time at Central from now on too.

“No,” Winry said, and then she grinned impishly. “I figured he’d want to get his own place with Mei.”

Ed cackled.

Oh, he wanted to be there when Winry said that to Al.

 

* * *

 

 

A week later, Roy and Olivier finally had a decent text with some automail designs in it (no details that were specific enough to replicate them, of course) to show their potential allies. Cornelius Fudge was thrilled by the concept —privately, as well as for Roy’s ears, Olivier was of the opinion Fudge was salivating over the thought of how well people would take such an improvement for injured, disabled wizards and witches. Even Rufus Scrimgeour had appeared interested, leaning forward in his seat to listen as Roy exposed the many benefits automail brought people in their world. They had glossed over the painful operation and long recovery time required: the Ministry of Magic weren’t the only ones who could paint things through a rosy lens.

Winry Elric had outdone herself with the designs, even going so far as to include automail meant for children, a sappy concept that no doubt would have many people feel additional enthusiasm over the potential of automail. At the end of that particular meeting, Fudge had expressed an interest to meet an ‘automail craftsman’, as he’d referred to the mechanics, and Roy had come up with some vague response about a later meeting.

Truth was, neither Roy nor Olivier were looking forward to a future visit of a Ministry delegation to Amestris.

At least not yet.

Despite some disproportionately large efforts on Fudge’s part, neither Roy nor Olivier had missed the obvious tension going on in the wizarding world. Not only the whispering clusters of people around Diagon Alley, but also the common disparaging articles in the Daily Prophet (mainly about Harry Potter or Albus Dumbledore), and the barely hidden tension between some members of the magical delegation. Olivier half-expected Kingsley Shacklebolt and Lucius Malfoy to pull their wands out and have a go at each other at any moment.

Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

Their stay was positively uneventful.

Roy kept sneaking books back to Amestris under their auror escort’s noses; boring, drawn-out meetings took place three or four times a week, in which people tried to talk circles around each other, weasel information out of one another, and throw jabs around. Fudge seemed pathetically unaware of those goings on. And still too interested in Olivier for her patience. She might kill Roy while they were here; the asshole was far too amused by the whole thing for Olivier’s liking.

And, fucking finally, three weeks after their official arrival to the wizarding world, a draft of a treaty that was more or less to everybody’s satisfaction had been written, and Roy and Olivier were heading back to Amestris to present it to the brass.

Hopefully they had a long stay ahead of them. Based on what information they had put together, Fudge hadn’t informed his government, the Wizengamot, of Amestris’ existence, much less about their talks. The Wizengamot was an entity that made the brass appear tiny in comparison, and Olivier hoped, with her most vindictive streak, that every one of them was as stubborn and verbose as the generals she would be forced to deal with.

She hoped Fudge had a hard time convincing them, even if she might be tempted to run him through with her sword if he didn’t convince the Wizengamot to sign the treaty, given the amount of time and energy that had gone into it.

**Author's Note:**

> Out of curiosity, would anyone be interested in reading about Roy and Olivier’s relationship before the crossover part of the plot? Both how it came to be and the three years between Explain Yourself and them coming across that array.
> 
> Remember that you can find me (and all my writing rambles, news and other stuff) on [tumblr](https://maisstories.tumblr.com/) :)


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